The Destruction Of Life By Anxiety and Panic

Today sucked. I was only in the dish four and a half  hours, hanging out with R at the shop while my kid had a playdate at grandma’s…I figured I’d spent basically six days home, venturing out only for the short jaunts to take my kid to school and pick her up…I had restorative time. I should have been chomping at the bit to get out of the house and behave like a “normal” person.

Instead, I woke with a sense of foreboding and every bone in my body told me to cancel any outings. I didn’t. Mainly because Spook is home from school and no way in hell would the yappy creature let me get away with flaking out on a playdate at Grandma’s. It took forever to get motivated. I put on clothes I didn’t sleep in, skipping the bra as usual. It occurred to me I haven’t bathed in days. I feel scummy. I feel ashamed. I feel…


The first thing I was assigned to do by R was fetch smokes, a bag of cat food for the shop strays, then pick up a pizza for lunch. Simple enough, right?

It took only five minutes in traffic and hearing the horn of a fire truck to send me into a tailspin. Just the sound of the siren terrifies me. I mean, I’ve already been in one fire, surely I’ve met fate’s cruel quota,right? Panic gives zero fucks. I wrestled for a good five minutes with the pounding heart and racing thoughts. Should I run home, make sure it’s not my place burning? I came sooo close to doing it..Because while all our shit can be replaced, I would never forgive myself if my cats were killed and it was because I didn’t run home to check…

I finally forced myself to say fuck it and went to get the pizza. Just going through the narrow drive thru had me feeling like I was going to hit something. Everything was moving so fast. I thought I’d drown it all out by playing my music loud. Then I hit a bumpy patch of road and went into instant melt down panic cos I was convinced I had a flat tire….

By the time I got out of the dish, I never wanted to go back again. My stomach was doing its pretzel gut thing. I had to eat because I’d done the lithium lottery and lost…So I ate pepperoni pizza and….four hours of gastric agony on top of the low mood and insane anxiety and paranoia. Then R stood over my shoulder looking at everything I typed.

Out of sorts doesn’t begin to cover it.

The kicker was being sent back into the dish for a pop and…I totally melted down in traffic. I started swearing, sweating, I felt like the walls were closing in on me…Two cars damn near hit me. I wanted out of that busy spot and yet my brain was too panic paralyzed to choose a direction to go.


I was so glad to leave. Unfortunately by the time I got to mom’s to pick up my kid, I had gone weak kneed, trembling, light headed, and  my  mom asked why my hands were shaking so bad. Then my nephew asked the same. Then my sister. If I were borderline diabetic or something I could utter something about low blood sugar. Instead I am stuck with “anxiety” and rather than empathy, I get bullshit like, “Oh, grow up, what do you have to be stressed out about?”

I wanted to pop in and out, quick like a bunny. But everyone wanted to see my war wounds from yesterday’s tussle with a pit bull that went after my cat. (“My ex trained her to kill cats, she’s just doing what she was taught.” There are no bad animals, there are just stupid humans.) My nephew thinks I’m pretty bad ass for getting bitten up protecting my cat. I’ve had better ideas than jumping in between a terrified snarling cat and a dog hell bent on eating said cat. Voodoo never should have been outside. He sneaked past Spook. Of course, I had to rescue him. Personally, I am very uncomfortable with a pit bull so strong it breaks free of its owner frequently. Too many kids in this trailer park being put in danger by that dog.

Thankfully the dizzy spell or whatever has passed, once I got home and took a xanax. I could have taken one earlier, I carry a few in a pill case, but…I just keep getting all these fuckwad voices telling me to “buck up” and “don’t rely on a pill to fix your weak personality.”

I am safe in my bubble. Spook is watching youtube on the anti-phone. All my kitties are safe.

I am drained. My stomach is finally settling down but, wow, when I get a stress stomach ache, I sure don’t half ass it. I could gold metal in internalizing stress even while externalizing the panic.

I really do not want to more dish time but Mrs R invited us over so Spook can have a playdate with their grandkids and I couldn’t really say no. Spook hasn’t seen L in months and they love each other so much…I figure if I can fake it for two hours, I’ll be golden. And tomorrow night Spook is with my mom so I can recover then. Ha. Having to recover from four and a half hours in the dish.


This. I can’t eat in a restaurant, I can’t go to a concert, I can’t brave a mall, drive in a big town. I can’t even go on a date.

And when on rare occasion the anxiety is tamed down…I get to juggle all the ups and downs and med failures of bipolar depression.

This shit is destroying my life. Hell, half the time I wonder , what life?

I try to push myself, power through it, and it still ravages and wrecks everything in its path. Adding insult to injury is the fact that society as well as my own family, has no empathy or support for my mental conditions. Prior to last year, I was dealing with it all on my own. Until I worked up the nerve to start replying to comments and visiting other blogs.

I have found an amazing support community here on wordpress and I am grateful for each one of you. ❤

In real life, I feel very alone in my mental health battles.

Here on wordpress…I feel like I am talking to people who understand where I am coming from because they too struggle with what we are told are “imaginary problems”. Knowing I could come home after the day from hell and post this blog filled me with great relief. Not because of likes. Not because of stats. I’m not a numbers person.

But if I get even one comment from someone who says  “I thought I was the only one who felt that way, thanks for posting this!”…It’s worth it to me. And even if all you have to say is “right on” or joke about zombie brains and hot sauce..Please do. Nothing is inane when connecting with others who “get” your struggles.

So now that the Xanax has kicked in  and we have two hours before Spook’s playdate…I am gonna shut off my brain for a few minutes and steel myself. Socializing should never feel like a hardship and yet with my anxiety….it is grueling.

Anxiety and panic are not harmless.

They are destructive. They wreak havoc on everything around you. Your ability to hold a job, be a parent, function as an adult, enjoy life…Anxiety stomps in like King Kong and smashes everything with a giant foot so you can spend a good deal of time coughing up the dust of destruction.

You rebuilt. Over and Over.

Over and Over, King Kong anxiety returns.

We are far stronger than any “mundane” for most of them would crumble if they had to rebuild and watch it all get smashed, over and over and over.

We are badasses.

Anyone tries to say otherwise, the pegacorn will stab them with his horn.



10 Responses to “The Destruction Of Life By Anxiety and Panic”

  1. Crap on a cracker woman. You need a new family. Even if I didn’t understand the anxiety, which, of course, I totally do, the visible signs of it should be enough for any loving person to acknowledge that there is a real problem at work. It angers me every time I hear about how your family marginalizes your anxiety.

    And, a dog trained to kill cats???? What the fuck is that idiocy? People are so fucking stupid.

    I hope that this evening goes better than today and your remaining time out of your home goes as smoothly as possible.

    ❤ xoxo

  2.  “I thought I was the only one who felt that way, thanks for posting this!”

    I mean every word of that. This is easily your best post Morgue. I really enjoyed reading. As always. I don’t bother with blogs that are boring and lifeless. You actually make it so people care about you. I’m one of them. It hurts hearing about the crushing anxiety and panic. I had that yesterday for like 4 hrs straight. Paranoid about losing my job even though it’s unwarranted. So I get it. I do. And I honestly hope things turn out better. You’re tough I can tell. Just because your support system is shitty beyond all belief in real life doesn’t mean that you don’t have one. I agree with you about the community support on WordPress. People here care about you. And it’s amazing and wonderful.

    Take care my friend. I’ll be here reading and commenting. Shank the haters with a black Stab-O-Matic!

  3. I love how you put it in words. I can’t write that way, but I sure do get it.

  4. Thank you for putting your story here. I don’t have words lately and it is strangely good to know you do.

  5. Ughhhhhh your family…… I’m constantly amazed at how nice you are to them, when you only ever seem to get shit on in return. Bastards.

  6. :/ I agree with Blah.

  7. Humans IRL are the shittest entities on the planet.
    I got the “what do you have to be anxious about” question two days ago; I can’t remember how I replied but I know what caused it: The people over the road who filled our yard with recycling have discovered they can climb out through their velux attic window and see into my back yard (their house faces the FRONT of my house, WTF), at which point they started shouting shit at me. Apparently it’s a crime to be seen in your own PRIVATE backyard wearing tracksuit bottoms. Then they started threatening my rabbits shouting that they were going to eat them, and I had to go inside and hide. I haven’t felt so invaded with privacy for months. Then I was shaking and crying because I felt like they’d won. This was the day after some fucker stole Banacek’s image and plastered it on Reddit claiming he was their rabbit, which opened so many old wounds. I haven’t been able to stop crying since. I picked my husband up from school and I was having a panic and he was like “what could possibly be stressful?” I wanted to explain about the garden incident but instead I told him to fuck off. I get so prickly when this sort of shit happens. Then last night I slept on the sofa because I couldn’t stand being near him when he couldn’t see that I needed support and input. I wish I could bite my tongue more like you do; my solution to a pothole in a bridge is to set the bridge on fire.

    • I say fuck off far more than I should. Unfortunately, most have come to know my rebellious sarcasm so they just blow it off.
      I don’t blame you for being upset with all that went on. I’d have either curled up in a ball and told beloved to walk home or I’d have been outside with a shovel looking to bash in skulls.

      • I think that’s what I’m afraid of… going Terminator on people over something trivial. And in the absence of knowing what else to do, I have a panic attack because all that rage turns inwards. Bleurgh.

  8. When’s a good time to come visit/commiserate, etc.? And perhaps throat punch some sense (if possible) into those whom you share your DNA?

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